Burning the Gates Down
by Mae34
Summary: His brother was gone. He was left behind. Sam deals with a lifetime of consequences. (Post-Season 9 spoilers)


"Hello, Moose."

Sam knew.

Sam knew that something was wrong the moment Crowley appeared _behind_ him and not in the trap.

When he turned around and Crowley gave him a smirk... well, if that wasn't ominous, he didn't know what was.

"Time to howl," was all Crowley said before he disappeared.

Sam booked it down the hall to the room where he left his brother's...where he left his brother.

_No, no, no, no._

It was too late. Dean was gone, leaving nothing behind except for the stench of sulfur and blood-soaked sheets.

* * *

He heard the rumors.

There were whispers about a new demon in Hell, one shaking their very foundations and bringing on a new era to the demons.

He's not stupid enough to deny who this new demon might be.

* * *

Sam never returned to the bunker and didn't plan on returning for awhile. Instead, he sat on the hood of the Impala, parked on top a hill and watched the corn below sway in the breeze.

He felt there was a parallel between now and where he was the first time Dean went to Hell all those years ago. Sam recalled the hot-headed kid he once was. He remembered screaming at the Heavens, throwing bottles of whiskey against the pavement and believing the world should burn for what it's done to them. They, at least, deserved that.

Sam pulled a slow sip from his amber bottle. He hadn't said a single word since his brother's disappearance and, as the sun descended in a wave of orange and red into the horizon, Sam believed for a moment that the world was actually on fire.

* * *

It wasn't hard to kill a hell hound once Sam tracked it down. The problem was that it took six months to track one down. Each second searching was a second he risked being discovered.

The guy who sold his soul was already ripped to pieces (Sam could never be on time for the important stuff in life) and the dark form of a very large dog growled at the threat before it.

Sam faced the hound with nothing more than a knife, a pair of glasses and a determination to finish what he started.

That night, he bathed in blood.

* * *

It was harder to carry out the second part of this plan considering he already succeeded at it before. The first prison-break probably lifted the security to 'Def-con Winchester'.

On this, he needed help.

"Sam."

Cas looked tired and Sam couldn't say he was surprised. He was one of the surviving members of the Winchesters' allies and friends.

There weren't that many in the world left.

"Please, Cas." Sam already received the speech on stupid plans and self-sacrificing fools, but he didn't believe for a second that Castiel would deny him this.

Castiel sighed and sunk deeper into the chair.

"You've done it twice already," Sam continued.

"And it nearly destroyed me both times," Cas shot back. "Even if I were to tell you how I got in, who is down there to save, Sam? Dean is hardly an innocent soul at this point."

"He's also not my only brother down there."

* * *

Sam gazed at the building in front of him.

Within these four walls was where it all began; two little boys made a pact and the consequences of it burned them all.

Sam's body burned as well. The pain wasn't as bad as before and he wondered how much of the effects was from his cursed blood. Maybe, like a disease, the demon blood burned out of him the first time around.

"Hello, Sam."

Sam turned around. He didn't know when he and Death got so chummy but it was almost a comfort to see the slender, omniscient form there with him.

"Are you here-" Sam choked. "Are you here for me?"

He hoped so. Lives depended on him succeeding.

He also hoped Death would say 'no', but he pushed that feeling deep down to where all his other illusions resided.

"I'm here if you need me to be," Death answered.

Sam looked away, embarrassed at the consolation, and nodded.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Sam doesn't answer that. They both knew what he wanted was far from what he needed to do.

He turned back to the church and took a deep breath to brace himself.

"Please," Sam pleaded. "Remember your promise."

"Keeping that promise will be harder than you realize, Samuel Henry Winchester."

He doesn't know if it was being contradicted by Death or the use of his full name, a name he hadn't heard since his dad learned the power of names in spells, that made him look back in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know why your brother could never let you go? Or why angels strive to protect you? Why demons look at you with reverence?"

Sam looked at Death with some varying degrees of disbelief and doubt. "I'm not worth scraping off their shoe to any angel _or_ demon."

"An angel went to Hell on his own freewill to save you from the Cage. A demon volunteered to fight an angel to warn you about being possessed. Please don't contradict me, Sam."

Sam held up his hands to concede.

Death continued. "You are the truest essence of humanity. The truest I have ever seen in a long time."

There was a beat of silence before Sam burst out laughing. It wasn't until he realized he was the only one before he stopped and frowned.

"You're serious," Sam said in disbelief.

Death took a step forward and it took all Sam had in him to not step back.

"Very."

"But I've sinned. The demon blood. The Apocalypse. I betrayed my brother numerous times. I've...done so _much_ evil. How can you say I'm even human after all that?"

"You've made mistakes," Death agreed. "And you worked hard to redeem yourself for those transgressions. But there's nothing evil about that. Even during your darkest times, you've never lost what was most important; your faith...your hope...the light that keeps you moving."

Death took another step closer as if to study this strange anomaly.

"That is humanity. That is something to fear and something to protect."

And just like that Death's focus on Sam was gone. "I'll be here when you need me," he repeated. "But I have a feeling that your brother will make me break a promise I made. He is very determined person."

"Well...as long as he is a person."

"Good luck, Sam."

Sam nodded and, at Death's blessing, began to walk up the steps of the church and slowly opened the door.

He was afraid. He was more afraid to walk into that room than anything he's ever done.

Sam wondered if the desperation and fear from their last encounter here seeped into the rotting boards, stored it in the grain.

Sam wondered if its empathy will seep back in him.

There was a figure sitting in the middle of room, facing the back, trapped in a chair and waiting for Sam's next move.

"Sammy," the figure acknowledged without even trying to turn his head to see who it was.

Sam took a deep breath and walked in.

"Hello, Dean."


End file.
